Transcendental Transportation
As if
trans-lucid lands
Cupid
-to dash across a fiery lake
In fitting passion
of a solemn choice
(later found to be a mistake)
Love let (like it just does)
let’s wet kin: hit dust done
like wasn’t was
but we will
forever be
magenta
at duck.
Lust heaven
trust Hell
-or
what-so-ever
that anvil that fell straight down.
How!
how low–
loon;
pale moon
delights me–
enlighten thee
just a mere eyelash
hair from restraint.
Awake!
to a fear of lust
of fear my dear
Boo-boo
bruised and bubonic
like rats
aware of the plague
which walks behind
our grace.
About this entry
You’re currently reading “Transcendental Transportation,” an entry on JR Finlayson
- Published:
- October 13, 2008 / 4:53 am
- Category:
- buffalo, jeff finlayson, poetry
No comments yet
Jump to comment form | comments rss [?] | trackback uri [?]